


Keep Your Enemies Closer

by SaunterVaguelyDownward (ClueingForLooks_221B)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), But Mostly Comfort, Crowley Comforts Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley's Flat (Good Omens), Crowley's Hiss (Good Omens), First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Out, Not Really Character Death, Romance, but aziraphale believes it to be so, during episode 4, on the floor, slight cannon AU, so much love and comfort you guys, the angst is real but it doesn't last long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:54:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29442951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClueingForLooks_221B/pseuds/SaunterVaguelyDownward
Summary: “Crowley? Where are you?” he tried again as he opened the door all the way.His foot nudged something on the floor as he entered the room and Aziraphale looked down. What he saw befuddled him. It looked a lot like a slightly melted version of his friend’s black leather jacket. It was wet and in some sort of puddle.Why would-?Oh, God.The smell.The angel’s chest hitched, his breath becoming ragged as his eyes began darting around the room. There was an overturned bucket just a few feet away. As he went to investigate, something else caught his attention in the corner of his eye.There, on a table nearby, lay a thermos with a tartan pattern on it.~In which, instead of getting discorporated via the summoning circle, a determined Aziraphale rushes to his demon's aid, to only then be brought to his knees by what he finds.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 106





	Keep Your Enemies Closer

**Author's Note:**

> I like to think that if Aziraphale had even a minute to think about what Crowley had said on the phone before Shadwell’s dumbass stormed in, he would have realized his demon was in trouble and headed straight over.
> 
> Don't worry you guys, this starts out rough, but there's only happy endings ahead of you. As if I could ever write anything else! Especially on Valentine's Day.

_The point is not to avoid the war. The point is to win it._

So that was it, then. Aziraphale blinked back tears as those declarations repeated in his head, wounding him. The Metatron had vanished and Aziraphale felt wholly disappointed and, what's more, a fool. With each word uttered by the higher authority, the angel had felt his hope and his very _faith_ deflating. 

Crowley had been right. Of course the demon had been right. Aziraphale had known it, but was too afraid of what that might mean. He didn’t want to face the reality that heaven had no intentions of stopping the war. They _wanted_ to fight so that they could prove they were better. Like in that movie he had watched with Crowley where some dumb, beefy, high school bully shoved smaller, weaker kids into their locker just to prove that he could.

He suddenly found himself with his rotary phone in his hand and his fingers hovering over the dial. It was a natural thing for him now, really, reaching out to his demon when he needed... well, _anything_. And, oh dear, when had he started referring to Crowley as “his demon” in his head? He would have to ponder that later, there were much more pressing things at the moment that needed seeing to. Like getting a hold of his best friend so that they could attempt to save the world together. To be on their own side.

Aziraphale swallowed thickly. He hoped Crowley was still interested in being on their own side. He wouldn’t blame him at all if the demon never wanted to speak to him again. He had turned his friend down _twice_ and one of the last things he had said to him was that they were, in fact, _not friends_. He bit his lip as his hand tightened on the receiver. If his demon could summon the courage to seek him out on the street even after he had rejected him so cruelly, he could certainly find the strength to ring him up and possibly be ignored. He had to try. The fate of the world depended on it and, what felt even more important somehow deep in his heart, his demon was worth it.

He dialed Crowley’s number as he took a shaky breath.

“Hi,” he heard his friend begin on the other end of the line.

“Hello!” the angel blurted out with sheer relief at having been able to reach him, but there was no time to waste on pleasantries. “I know where the Anti-”

“This is Anthony Crowley. You know what to do, do it with style.”

“Well, I know who you are, you idiot. I telephoned you.” He replied with confusion. “Listen, I know where the Antichrist is-”

“Yeah, it’s not a good time. Got an old friend here.”

“But-!”

Aziraphale only had a moment to feel hurt at the fact that his friend had just hung up on him before he processed his demon’s words. He felt all the breath leave his corporation as he stiffened in a response that he could only describe as pure terror. The last time he saw Crowley, the demon had wanted them to leave together because he said Hell found out what he had done. 

Oh. 

_No_.

He had to get to his friend and _fast_.

“You foul fiend! In league with the forces of darkness.”

Aziraphale looked up in surprise, recognizing the familiar Scottish accent. “Sergeant Shadwell?”

“You monster! Seducing women to do your evil will.” The old man was clearly angry, and he was coming closer.

“Oh, I think perhaps you’ve got the wrong shop.” The angel had no clue what this man was talking about, but hoped he could get him to leave quickly.

“You are possessed by a demon, and I will exorcise you with bell, book and candle.”

Aziraphale’s eyes narrowed in confusion at that statement, but he didn’t have time to worry what it meant or to even care. He had to get to Crowley, but it wouldn’t do to leave Shadwell in a room with a summoning circle that could destroy him. “Yes, er, fine. But, please, keep away from the circle. It’s-it’s still powered up.” Aziraphale could tell the man was clearly not listening as he began walking around, beginning to seek out the random objects he had listed.

“Bell…” 

“Mr. Shadwell, I must insist that you take your leave-”

“Book...” the Scottish man continued, picking up Agnes Nutter’s book of prophecy.

“I don’t have time for this!” the angel felt his anger rising.

“Sort of a candle,” he finished as he held up a lighter.

Shadwell was now dangerously close to the circle and Aziraphale took a deep, steadying breath before snapping his fingers.

The sergeant’s eyes widened as he found himself bound to a chair and gagged across the room, away from the still open portal.

“Now I _really_ didn’t want it to come to this,” Aziraphale began as he walked closer to the man, “but my friend is in danger and I have to get to him. You may not believe me, but this is for your own good. That circle is dangerous and _will_ kill you if you touch it. I will come back for you once I’ve helped my friend.”

With that, Shadwell watched with ever widening eyes as the angel snapped his fingers once more and disappeared.

Under normal circumstances, Aziraphale wouldn’t ever _think_ to let a human witness such a blatant use of his miracles, and he certainly wouldn’t use one to appear inside Crowley’s flat. But these were far from normal circumstances. What did he care if some higher up angelic entity decided to trace his miracle usage? He was officially done with them now anyway.

He had materialized just inside the main door to his demon’s flat, and quickly covered his mouth and nose as he was immediately hit with some sort of burning, putrid smell. He didn’t dare think about what the smell might be, or let his mind wonder why it was so deathly quiet, as he began slowly walking down the long hallway.

“Crowley?” he called out softly, his heart beating harder and faster with each step he took. 

He was only a few steps away from the slightly ajar door to the main room where his demon kept his desk. 

“Crowley? Where are you?” he tried again as he opened the door all the way.

His foot nudged something on the floor as he entered the room and Aziraphale looked down. What he saw befuddled him. It looked a lot like a slightly _melted_ version of his friend’s black leather jacket. It was wet and in some sort of puddle.

Why would-?

Oh, _God_.

The smell.

The angel’s chest hitched, his breath becoming ragged as his eyes began darting around the room. There was an overturned bucket just a few feet away. As he went to investigate, something else caught his attention in the corner of his eye. 

There, on a table nearby, lay a thermos with a tartan pattern on it.

Dread, the likes of which the angel had never experienced before, overtook his entire form. He slowly moved toward the thermos, his mind flashing back to the day he had given it to his demon. How grateful Crowley had been. How, if he had to do it over again, he would have told Crowley exactly _why_ it was so hard for him to hand that thermos over. How the very possibility of losing him forever was choking him. And should that possibility become reality it would, in fact, destroy him.

He was at the table now, staring down at the plastic, tartan patterned container. It mocked him now just as it had when his fingers brushed Crowley’s as he handed it over back in 1967. Slowly picking it up, he verified that it was, indeed, empty. 

Aziraphale licked his lips, feeling on the verge of hyperventilating. It couldn’t be. _Please_ , please for someone’s sake tell him this wasn’t happening! Crowley had said he’d wanted it for protection, so maybe he was able to use it for that very reason! He dropped the thermos and whirled around, his eyes searching desperately.

“Crowley?!” he shouted, the anguish he felt evident in his voice. 

That’s when he saw a cell phone on the desk. With trembling hands he leant over to pick it up. He brought it closer to his face and pressed the main button at the bottom, as he had seen his friend do so many times. The screen lit up and Aziraphale gasped at the familiar background image of flames. 

Crowley’s phone. 

He dropped the mobile as if it had burned him. Staggering backward, the angel covered his mouth and nose with both hands in horror, shaking his head in disbelief.

“No… no, no no no. _No_. Oh, _please_. Please, _no_ , it _can’t_ be true.”

He was crying out, _pleading_ , but with whom, he no longer knew. He fell to his knees, and with one last desperate attempt to prove to himself this was all some great misunderstanding somehow, he reached out for his friend. He closed his eyes and lifted his head, letting his ethereal body expand and rush away from him at the speed of light. It rushed around the globe in great waves, coming back to him within seconds but, when it arrived, it arrived empty and with no sign of his demon’s existence anywhere. In the handful of times he had allowed himself this reassurance of his best friend’s presence over the last six thousand years, those times he hadn’t heard from him in years and was so worried he couldn’t sleep, his ethereal light had _never_ returned empty.

There was a sudden pain in the angel’s chest, one that took his breath and forced him to brace himself with his hands on the floor. The all consuming feeling of dread that had been building manifested itself into grief. It forced its way up his body, choking him before finding its way out in a great, heaving sob.  
  
Aziraphale could do nothing more than remain hunched over as the sobs and despair wracked his body. He let out a wail, an unearthly, inhuman cry that shattered the windows and sent cracks up the cement walls. Fat tears escaped from his eyes, one after another, sliding down his cheeks and landing on the floor beneath him.

He had never felt this sort of grief before. Not in all his existence. It was inky and black, like a night sky with no moon and no stars. It was viscous, rolling in his stomach and coating his insides. It would devour him, _consume_ him, and someone help him, though he’d been denying it to himself for eons, he knew the reason why.

_________________

  
Crowley was tumbling and whirling through the telephone system with Hastur hot on his tail. That frog-headed moron was falling right into his trap and everything was going according to plan. He counted down quickly from three, rematerializing from his answering machine and quickly silencing the protesting demon he left trapped inside. He grinned, feeling _quite_ pleased with himself and his cleverness. His moment of triumph didn't last long, however, as all at once he was overcome with the feeling of a familiar angelic presence.

He whirled around and that’s when he saw him. His angel, on his knees, hunched over with one hand cradling his stomach as the other covering his eyes. His body was trembling, his chest hitching with each breath, crying in such a way the demon didn’t know an angel was capable of.

At first he was terrified his angel was hurt and he took a step closer with intentions to find out. 

Aziraphale’s hushed words stopped him in his tracks.

“He’s gone and it’s my fault. Oh, _Crowley_ , no… oh, _please_. Please don’t let it be true. I _love_ him, please…”

Crowley inhaled sharply, his eyes widening at that quiet declaration. The rest of his angel’s words sunk in quickly, however, and as he looked around his trashed flat, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out the conclusion Aziraphale must have reached. 

Oh no no no no. His angel thought that he was dead. Not just discorporated, _destroyed_. His fear about the holy water and the reason why he didn’t want to give it to Crowley in the first place. He thinks it’s come true. He had heard Aziraphale say “it’s my fault” through his tears.

Oh, _angel_.

Crowley slowly approached the sobbing figure of his best friend.

“Aziraphale?” he questioned softly.

The angel stilled for just a moment, as if he wasn’t sure whether or not he had heard something, before he resumed quietly crying.

Crowley’s heart was breaking as he slowly lowered himself to his knees next to his angel. He let his hand come up and rest on Aziraphale’s back, rubbing gently at the base of his neck.

“ _Angel_ , hey, it’s okay,” he murmured.

Aziraphale’s back tensed at his touch and his head snapped to the side to meet his demon’s eyes.

Crowley winced at the glassy, pain filled, stormy blue eyes that gazed back at him. Those eyes then widened, searching all over the demon’s face frantically with disbelief and with something like hope.

“ _Crowley_?” Aziraphale whispered in shock. How could this be possible? Oh, but he _wanted_ it to be possible. “Is it really you?” he managed to choke out between tears.

The demon nodded frantically. “Yes, yes angel, I swear it’s me,” he insisted. 

The angel was still searching his face, not quite knowing what to believe, and the demon took his glasses off and tossed them to the side.

Aziraphale and Crowley searched each other’s eyes. The angel’s daring to hope and the demon’s filled with reassurance and comfort. 

Aziraphale lifted a hand up slowly, wanting to touch so badly but fearing that this Crowley was a mirage, some sort of cruel trick. What if he tried to touch him and he disappeared? He couldn’t handle losing his demon again, he simply wasn’t strong enough. He hesitated, and the demon took his hand into his own, placing it flat against the warmth of his own chest. The angel sucked in a startled breath at the gesture as Crowley’s hand remained over his, holding it in place. He could feel his demon’s heart beating beneath his palm, his chest warm and firm and so very alive. 

A broken sob escaped the angel, his teary eyes lifting to meet the demon’s golden ones again. “Please, _please_ ,” he begged, “tell me this is real. Tell me you’re here with me and not gone forever.”

“Oh, _angel_ ,” Crowley swallowed thickly, feeling tears fill his own eyes at his love’s obvious pain. He used his free hand to cradle Aziraphale’s face and met his eyes with conviction. “It’s me. I _swear_ to you, I’m here with you, alive and well.”

Aziraphale sniffled, leaning into the warmth of his demon’s hand on his cheek as he began to think it could be true.

“It’s okay, I _promise_ ,” Crowley murmured comfortingly. “C’mere, angel,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around Aziraphale, pulling him tightly against himself. “ _Please_ don’t cry, I’ve got you.”

Aziraphale went more than willingly, practically whimpering as he fell into his demon’s arms. He nuzzled into Crowley’s neck as he felt his friend’s arms pull him in even tighter, one hand coming up to card through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“It was Ligur,” Crowley said quietly into his blonde hair. “I know what you must have thought but you _saved_ me, angel. He and Hastur would have dragged me down to hell. That’s where I’d be right now if you hadn’t given me the means to protect myself.”

Aziraphale clutched at Crowley’s back. He shuddered to think about the puddle on the floor nearby that he, only minutes ago, was certain contained the remains of his best friend.

“You were gone,” Aziraphale mumbled miserably into his friend’s neck, “I couldn’t feel you.”

“What do you mean?” Crowley asked softly.

Aziraphale lifted his head so he could look into his demon’s eyes once again. Their faces were so close and their arms stayed loosely wrapped around one another. The angel took a deep breath, trying to steady his trembling. “After I saw the... puddle and- and then I found your phone, I tried to reach out to you with my ethereal powers. I’ve done it a few times before, to make sure you were okay when I had no other way of knowing. Only, this time, for the first time in our entire history, I couldn’t sense you. I felt _nothing_ and I- oh, _Crowley_ , why couldn’t I feel you?” The angel kept his grip on his demon tight as his eyes welled up again at the memory of the sheer emptiness he felt.

One of Crowley’s hands lifted to cup the angel’s cheek before using the pad of his thumb to wipe away a tear.

“I was microscopic,” he replied quietly.

Aziraphale sniffed. “You were what, dearest?”

“I was microscopic,” he said again louder, looking slightly sheepish. At Aziraphale’s continued look of confusion, he attempted to explain himself. “I tricked Hastur into chasing me through the telephone lines, y’know, between electrons. I trapped him in there. I must have been too small to register when you reached for me. Oh, angel, I’m _so_ sorry, I-”

Aziraphale could simply stand it no longer and pressed his lips against his demon’s.

Crowley stiffened, inhaling sharply in surprise. His eyes were as wide as saucers as his angel’s soft, warm lips retreated slightly, blue eyes meeting his gaze with a sheepish look.

“Oh dear, oh- I’m so sorry, is that okay?” he stammered nervously. “I just couldn’t wait a moment longer. I truly thought that I had lost you and I can’t believe that’s what it took for me to finally gather the courage. I’ve wanted to kiss you for _so_ long-”

Crowley closed what little distance remained between them this time, angling his head slightly and capturing his angel’s lips with his own. Aziraphale sighed in bliss and wrapped a hand around the back of his demon’s neck posessively, unable to shake the fear that he would still somehow be taken away from him. They took small, sipping kisses, tasting one another and gently exploring. Aziraphale lightly bit Crowley’s lower lip and the demon let out a pleased whimper in response.

Somehow, without separating, Aziraphale maneuvered them so that they were no longer kneeling. Crowley was now on his rear, his long legs splayed out in front of him as the angel climbed into his lap, straddling him and still kissing him. Crowley’s arms were tightly wound around his back, holding their torsos flush together. Aziraphale now had both hands on his demon’s shoulders, ghosting up his neck and cradling his jawline as they continued to nip and softly kiss one another.

The angel pulled back slightly, meeting Crowley’s golden and blissed out eyes as both of them tried to catch their breath. They let their foreheads come together and Crowley smiled shyly.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time, too,” the demon admitted softly, sincerely.

Aziraphale positively beamed. He kissed the corner of his demon’s mouth, then the tip of his nose and then his cheek. He continued peppering Crowley’s face with little, loving kisses as his demon all but melted.

“My clever, beautiful, _wily_ serpent,” he praised as his lips then moved along his jawline. He felt more tears running down his cheeks as he lavished his love, but they were no longer due to grief. He felt an all encompassing relief coursing through his body in great waves. His demon was truly here in his arms where he belonged, not only letting the angel kiss him, but returning his affections enthusiastically. “I was _so_ frightened, so absolutely terrified that I had lost you,” he whispered against Crowley’s lips. “I’m so sorry, my love. I should have listened to you, should have believed you. I _never_ should have left you alone.”

Crowley inhaled sharply. There was that word again, “love”, spilling from his angel’s lips and being directed at him. His heart simultaneously sang at the admission as it broke for how scared Aziraphale had been that he’d been destroyed.

Crowley lifted his hands to cup his angel’s face, meeting his eyes once again.

“Angel, you-”

He had intended to tell him that he understood and that he forgave him, that he would always forgive him, but his words were cut short by the feeling of a cool breeze against his skin. Confused as to why such a thing would happen on the top floor of his Mayfair flat, he began to truly look around. What he saw left him stunned. His windows were all shattered and there were great, deep cracks running along his walls and up onto the ceiling.

Aziraphale was confused why Crowley cut himself off, then his eyes followed the track of his demon’s. He bit his lip sheepishly as Crowley's shocked gaze returned to him.

“I um… I do apologize dear. I don’t _quite_ recall but that must have been my doing. I uh, that is to say, I went to a rather dark place,” he finished with a halfhearted smile that did nothing to hide the misery he felt at the memory.

“ _Aziraphale_ ,” Crowley breathed. He would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t positively stunned and more than a little touched at how desperately his angel had grieved him. He narrowed his eyes as he spoke with absolute sincerity. “If I could make it so that you didn’t come over here, so that you _never_ had to feel that way, I would. I wish I-”

“I _love_ you, Crowley,” Aziraphale blurted out, stunning his demon into silence. “I love you so, _so_ much and I should have told you a thousand times by now.”

Crowley could feel his eyes becoming glassy, his stupid, fragile heart filling with what could only be described as pure euphoria.

“I don’t ever want to feel that pain again,” the angel continued with a shudder as he stroked his demon’s cheeks with his thumbs. “It’s not your fault what happened, and in an odd way I’m grateful because it’s made me finally come to terms with how I’ve felt about you all along.”

Crowley let out a blissful sigh and pulled his angel close, embracing him, doing his best to coil himself around him as he spoke into his clavicle. “Angel, you’re the most important thing in my entire existence. Surely you know that?”

Aziraphale regarded his love seriously. He _did_ know that, of course he did.

“Do you know,” the angel began, murmuring into Crowley’s fiery red hair, “I did successfully speak to a higher authority earlier. It went about as well as you can imagine. He told me exactly what you’ve been trying to get me to believe for a long time. Heaven wants the war to happen, they have no intention of stopping it.” He felt his love’s arms squeeze him tighter in an attempt to comfort at the bitterness and disappointment that he didn’t hide from his voice. “But, before that happened, I was stopped on the street by the angels Uriel, Michael and Sandalphon. They threatened me, told me I was ridiculous for trying to prevent a war and then Sandalphon sucker punched me in the stomach.”

Crowley felt his blood boil, he practically hissed in fury as he pulled back to look at his angel. His eyes searched his face for any signs of lingering hurt but what he found instead made him soften. His angel was looking at him with such open adoration, blue eyes shining with such _love_ , that it practically took his breath away.

“You’re supposed to be on the side of evil, supposed to be my _enemy_ , but all you’ve ever done is watch over me and help me. You’re the _only_ one who has. No angel has ever done for me what you have. Even they have hurt me. But not _you_. _Never_ you.”

Crowley swallowed thickly, nodding and trying to find his voice around the emotion bubbling up inside of him.

“I _love_ you, angel,” he breathed as he brought their foreheads together. “I love you with every part of myself and I’ve never been very good at hiding it.”

Aziraphale whimpered, throwing himself at his demon and pressing their lips together. The motion caused the two of them to tumble, the angel cushioning Crowley’s head as his back made contact with the floor. Aziraphale blanketed himself over his demon, Crowley clutching desperately at his back as they deepened the kiss, moving their lips firmly against one another. The angel couldn’t control himself, his hands were clutching at Crowley’s shirt, cupping his face, carding through his hair, trying to touch as much of him as he could as he let his weight fully rest on top of him. Both were making desperate, whining little mewls as they nipped at one another. Aziraphale’s tongue licked along Crowley’s bottom lip and the demon moaned as he allowed him entrance. They both gasped at the warm, wet feel of their tongues brushing together.

As much as Crowley loved the feeling of his angel covering him, he wanted easier access to be able to _ravish_ him. With one, swift movement, he rolled them over so that he was now on top, his angel gasping in surprise as he began to gently bite and suck at his neck.

“Oh, _Crowley_ ,” he sighed with absolute elation.

“Yes, angel, _yesss_ ,” he replied between kisses.

“I love you so much,” he purred. He then cupped his demon’s jaw in his hands, stilling his kisses and meeting his eyes. “Don’t leave me,” he whispered.

“No, I'm not going to leave you, angel. _Never._ ” Crowley stated with absolute conviction. His knuckles brushed against his angel’s cheeks as he gazed down at him with all the tenderness he felt inside. “We’re going to figure out this end of the world business, and you and I are going to _stop_ it.”

“Our side,” the angel said as he placed a sweet kiss on his demon’s lips with a smile.

“Our side,” the demon replied. His golden eyes were full of love and his cheeks flushed with happiness.

**Author's Note:**

> Jeez you two, move to the bedroom already ;-) Oh wait, I guess you should stop the End of the World first.
> 
> Does anyone care that we left Shadwell tied to a chair in the bookshop? If it makes you feel better Aziraphale remembers him at some point and sets him free. I'll never forgive him for causing the angel's discorporation and the resulting pain that caused Crowley so he can just sit tight for a bit ::devil horns::
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day everyone!


End file.
